


Aftermath

by joisbishmyoga



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Gen, I am really bad at puns, I do like me a crossover, I really hate writing action scenes, I really love maps, Not Identity Reveal, Papillon thought he was sooo smart and then oops nope, bandwagon: Miraculous Ladybug, do smartphones even work like this?, heck cities don't work like this but shh it's magic Paris, mix of English and French translations because I like both Papillon and Spots On, not actually as much DCMK as you'd think I'd write, ok so the chapter two trope is apparently my jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisbishmyoga/pseuds/joisbishmyoga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can give you the power to make them listen, the voice crooned.  All of them.  No adult will ever ignore a child's testimony again... all I want...</p><p>Yes...?  some instinctive curiosity in Conan prodded.</p><p>Everything went black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this came from chats with Waywren Truesong, so credit to her too! Rather a lot more credit than just dialogue and plotting discussion, actually, because she bookmarked over 600 MLB fics in the two weeks prior to me starting to write this, and I fell a little in love with MLB reading from her list while in the process of moving. It's all just so cute. Anyway, now that I'm in my new place and mostly unpacked and can actually set up and watch the show... squee it's so adorable and I had to write!
> 
> Detective Conan: 17-year-old detective prodigy gets shrunk to age 7 by criminal mooks in black, retains mental self, solves classical-style mysteries (mostly murders) by proxy and tries to catch the crime organization that thinks it killed him.
> 
> Miraculous Ladybug: Magical girl anime only French, lol. Two young teens are secretly superheroes (secret from each other, even), supervillain's schtick is transforming people into akuma monster villains via corrupted magic butterflies preying on people having an emotional shock. They live in a fictional 21st arrondissement (district) of Paris, which logically would be at the south end of the 20th but going by the scenery is on the Seine in a corner of the 1st.

"He's _innocent_ , damn it!" Conan yelled, grabbing onto the cop's sleeve.  "Cet homme est innocent!"  The cop glared tiredly at him, shaking him off roughly enough that Conan staggered into a wall.  He slumped against it, the wind knocked out of him, watching as the Parisian police finished shoving the victim's fiancé -- blond, resigned, broken -- into the back of the car.  
  
Off to the side, clustered in the middle of the restaurant's other patrons, the dark-haired waitress he knew was the murderer... her expression cracked, vindictive glee for just a split second before returning to a mockery of the same rubbernecking amazement on everyone else's face.  
  
His French wasn't perfect, but he _was_ good enough to understand, dammit.  He'd even made a show of translating for Kogoro, rather than doing the sleeping thing, since this wasn't Tokyo.  And still... and still -- he blinked back furious tears -- and still, the police wouldn't...  
  
Something black flickered at the corner of his eye.  
  
_Poor little boy.  Adults never listen, do they?_  
  
What the--?  
  
_I can give you the power to make them listen_ , the voice crooned.  _All of them.  No adult will ever ignore a child's testimony again... all I want.._.  
  
_Yes...?_ some instinctive curiosity in Conan prodded.  
  
Everything went black.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
Polka dots.  Why was half the new seasonal fabric _polka dots_?  It wasn't even springtime!  
  
Marinette groaned, shuffling past a rack of truly horrible gray-and-pastel print.  Wasn't there anything that would look appropriate on someone over age seven?  No there was not.  "My kingdom for something pretty..." she muttered.  
  
Her phone buzzed at her hip.  
  
_Akuma alert!_ blared the Ladyblog, and Marinette blinked.  She was _shopping_ with Alya, they weren't anywhere... near... where _was_ Alya, anyway?  Er, how long had she been buried in the fabric bins, for that matter?  (That question probably answered the first.)  
  
"--ive near the Grand Palais!"  Alya yelled breathlessly into the live stream, her eyes bright with excitement and the picture bouncing as she ran.  "The akuma seems to be flying towards the Avenue de Champs-Elysees!  No sign of Ladybug or Chat Noir ye--"  Something unseen hit Alya, sending the picture spinning, the phone clearly blasted from her hand.  It clattered loudly against the sidewalk, then someone -- a _lot_ of someones -- screamed in raw, animal pain.  
  
Oh _Dieu_ what had it _done_?!  
  
Marinette abandoned her fabrics on the floor.  "Tikki!" she choked out as she ducked under the cutting counter.  "Spots on!"  
  
Outside, "Ugh!  What's that smell?" Ladybug gasped, covering her mouth and nose.  There was a thin gray mist swirling around her ankles, half-covering dozens of huddled, shivering bodies.  It reeked like rotting lemons and worse, but it didn't seem to be triggering anything but the need to retch.  Ugh.  
  
She tossed out her yo-yo and swung herself up onto the rooftop, taking a breath of fresh air to settle her stomach, then peered around for the akuma.  
  
To the west and fluttering slowly across an intersection, was something that looked like a bright red butterfly.  As Ladybug walked cautiously closer, she could see the wings were actually a giant bowtie, dwarfing the human figure between them.  It looked like a kid, maybe a bit older than Manon, in spandex mostly of the same bright red but with maroon boots.  The pattern over its knees was odd, more like splatter than a hem.  It had its maroon-gloved hands crossed unconcernedly behind its back, and a head of ordinary medium-brown hair.  
  
It -- he, unless its parent liked cute little pixie cuts -- dodged her yo-yo without even bothering to look towards her.  _Rude_.  "Hey!  What are you doing?!"  
  
He turned a little bit, just enough that he was clearly looking out over the rooftops instead of responding to her, revealing a stark white cheek streaked with red down from the bottom point of his black mask.  
  
"Answer me!  Stop hurting those people!"  She took another shot.  
  
He dodged again.  What was _with_ this guy?  Usually the akuma couldn't shut up!  It was all 'mwahaha I am the so-and-so, look at my revenge which is for this reason, give me the miraculous'!  And a kid, especially, should be monologuing dramatically like a cartoon villain!  
  
_Was_ this a kid?  Akuma could change appearance pretty drastically...  They didn't usually, but it was possible.  
  
A shadow landed with a familar thump just to her left, and Ladybug grinned.  Backup.  "You took your time, kitty," she said lightly.  
  
"You're just early, my Lady.  A cat is always purrfectly on time."  
  
"There you are," the akuma said, its young voice flat and low, unlike every other akuma Ladybug had ever heard.  He turned to face them both dead-on.  His costume had a sort of tux-like look to its chest, a white dress shirt and maroon lapels, but no tie.  "I am The Minimalist," he explained, finally doing something like normal akuma did.  Then he promptly dropped into weirdness again.  "I'm sure you know how this goes."  No, that was too weird.  Too old and mature.  He couldn't be a kid, he just _couldn't_.  "Your miraculous, please."  
  
He didn't sound like he actually expected them to obey.  That worked just fine for Ladybug!  
  
This time, when he dodged their attacks, he zipped straight up into the air, wings fluttering faster.  Faster.  They began to buzz, a red blur behind him, and two thick drops of blood welled up from his eyes.  
  
He blinked.  
  
The shockwave knocked them both off their feet.  
  
After one stunned moment, just long enough to gasp in a breath, the fire hit.  Ladybug choked on a scream.  Chat Noir didn't; his yowling screech raced up into terrifying heights without any barrier at all.  
  
Was this what happened to Alya?  
  
It hurt.  It hurt like she was dying...  
  
She was breathing.  She was breathing and it smelled like rotting lemons.  She was breathing and there was no fire, it was all fading away, rough coals pulsing in her joints, embers and ash in her veins.  
  
She was breathing.  
  
She still had her mask, still had her suit, fingers of honeycombed leathery-steel cold pressed against her face.  She still had her miraculous.  
  
Why would-- Chat!  She shoved herself upright, ignoring the screaming in her muscles, looking for the akuma-- he must've gone for Chat's ring first, must've-- must've--  
  
He was still hovering in the same spot.  
  
Chat was a little ball of black in a thinning cloud of mist, ears so flat they could only be seen by their color in his messy blond hair.  So he was still transformed, still had his miraculous too.  How long had the... whatever the akuma did... how long had it taken, that the Minimalist hadn't even bothered to try?  
  
"Chat..."  She stumbled over to him on wobbly legs, one eye on the unmoving akuma.  "Chat, come on, we have to--"  
  
He swiped at her, hissing, and the Chat Noir that unfurled under her hands was a little kid.  Wet green eyes landed on her and flew wide.  "My Lady, you're little!" he squeaked.  Then, " _I'm_ little!"  
  
_I'm litt--?_   No.  Panic later, fight now.  Ladybug stood, one hand on Chat's shoulder, and began circling her yo-yo.  Or, well, tried.  It hit the rooftop under her feet on the first spin.  She shortened the string and tried again, and this time managed to get it going properly.  So.  That was a shield, at least.  A small one.  But they were smaller too, so it probably all evened out.  
  
The Minimalist waited until Chat was on his feet, baton out and extended to half its usual length, growling very squeakily under his breath.  The outline of Papillon's mask was glowing over the akuma's own, but he seemed to not even notice.  Until, "Papillon, you're an idiot."  
  
"I catnot argue with that," Chat muttered.  
  
"I'm not telling you how you're stupid," The Minimalist continued.  "Adults don't listen to children, remember?"  The corner of his mouth quirked upwards.  "That was very stupid of you, too."  Papillon's outline pulsed, somehow clearly furious.    
  
"I get the feline," Chat mused quietly, "that Papillon screwed up somewhere."  
  
"No, you think?"  
  
The Minimalist frowned.  "I'm not talking to you until I come get you.  Go away."  He jerked his head sharply, and it was like the purple light got slapped off his face.  Then he turned cold blue eyes on them, and Ladybug tensed.  "Are you all right?"  
  
Chat hissed.  "I'm meowniature!"  
  
"Yeah, you're all right," Ladybug replied on automatic.  
  
The Minimalist nodded.  Then he tipped his head down towards the streets.  "I think I got everybody in Paris with that one," he said mildly, much to Ladybug's horror.  "Everybody outside, anyway.  It's a nice day, there were probably thousands and thousands of them.  Your miraculous, please."  
  
Thousands and thousands of them.  
  
Thousands and thousands and "You expect us to let you get _away_ with that?"  She threw her yo-yo, Chat's baton swinging over her head right on target to hit the Minimalist if he dodged her shot-- but no, he somersaulted backwards and kicked off Chat's baton, letting it propel him to the next intersection.  "Get back here!"  
  
Of course he didn't.  He flew ahead, backwards, watching them scramble over the rooftops.  A few times he did slow, when she misjudged a vault or Chat's baton overbalanced and left him flailing at the edge of a roof before catching himself, but for the most part he stayed just out of range until he touched down on the Arc de Triomphe.  Ladybug managed to land unsteadily on one end of the monument; Chat made a clumsy three-point landing on the other, both of them successfully not falling into the heavy traffic on the roundabout.  They'd effectively boxed The Minimalist in.  
  
The Minimalist's wings were already fluttering up towards a blur.  "Ready to be reasonable?"  
  
"I purrlieve that's our question!"  
  
"Give it up, Minimalist!  You've already gotten everybody!"  
  
The Minimalist smirked.  Two more bloody tears, and this time the explosion knocked them off the monument.  Ladybug caught and swung herself under the arch, teeth rattling; Chat, she saw out of the corner of her eye, had simply dug his claws into the stone and hung off the corner.  He pulled himself up as she landed.  
  
All around, screams went up amidst the unmistakable sound of cars crashing.  Ladybug spun, her heart in her throat.  The _drivers_... he could target people who _weren't outside._   And he had: the entire traffic circle was a pile of skidding vehicles.  Some flipped, their tires still spinning as the cabins squished.  Others crumpled into each other, jamming up across the plaza under the Arc, or across lanes of traffic, or up onto the sidewalks where shrunken people had still been pain-stricken, struggling little heaps.  It was the same all up and down every street she could see, nearly a dozen of them coming into the Arc's roundabout alone.  
  
So many people.  So many children.  
  
She was going to _beat his bratty little ass down and rip that akuma out of his giant, obvious bowtie wings_.  And she'd start the beating with his horrible blood-streaked _face_.  
  
She very nearly took Chat's head off when she whapped her yo-yo out across the monument.  The Minimalist had already taken to flight, a bright red spot fluttering south down another road.  
  
Chat vaulted past her, tail a furious C high over his back, yowl choking up into coughed hisses of pure feline rage.  He landed on a rooftop just a split second before she did, and left shingles torn free in his wake.  
  
_Where is the akuma going?  He can't have any more-_ -  A flash of a face at one of the windows across the street caught her eye, then another.  Adult faces.  He still hadn't gotten people who were inside buildings.  "He still has hostages!" Ladybug snapped.  
  
_He still has hostages.  Where is he taking us?_  
  
_Taking us.  Not running to._  
  
_He could fly faster if he wanted, or higher, just by turning around to look where he's going instead of watching us!  Where is he_ taking _us?!_  
  
The Eiffel Tower loomed off to the right, lined gold by the sunset.  The American Cathedral's lone steeple got them higher, high enough that The Minimalist had to soar nearly five stories more to get out of reach again.  He was angling off the road, over the one long block that divided this road from the bridge...  
  
He wanted them on the other side of the river.  
  
Why?  
  
What was straight in that direction?  The Military School, UNESCO, the... the...  
  
The hospital.  Surgeries.  Size-calibrated medicines.  _Labor and delivery._  
  
"We can't let him get across the river!" she shouted.  Chat barely glanced at her, a flick of green eyes that went right back to the akuma's very obvious wings.  He may as well have shouted ' _how do you expect to stop him?!'_  
  
The rooftops ended.  There was only a riverside intersection, cars piled like a junkyard fence across the way and down the bridge.  
  
"Cataclysm!" Chat screamed, leaping across the cars with claws outstretched.  
  
" _Chat what are you doing?!_ "  
  
The bridge shuddered, great cracks breaking through the concrete and gushing dust, then collapsed into the river, taking dozens of cars with it.  Cars that could've had people inside, a bridge they needed to chase The Minimalist, and now Chat had only five minutes and _what was he thinking?!_  
  
"Oh no!" Chat shouted, high and mocking.  "The bridge is out!  We can't _pawsibly_ follow that akuma to _give him our miraculous!_ "  
  
Ladybug was going to kill him.  "Have you gone insane?!"  
  
"Oh no, My Lady," Chat purred, eyes fixed with furious glee across the river.  "I know exactly what I'm doing."  
  
Ladybug followed his stare, only to see The Minimalist had stopped in his tracks.  
  
Granted, he had his hands on his hips and was giving them the most skeptical look she'd seen since her mother nearly caught her sneaking back inside after a late-night akuma attack, but he'd _stopped_.  
  
"He needs us to follow him," Chat breathed.  "Not just wants... he _needs_ us to follow him, so we can be there to give in to his demands.  Attacking the hospital doesn't work if we aren't there to truly prevent it."  
  
"There are other bridges," Ladybug hissed.  
  
"But now he's coming back to lead us to one."  
  
And indeed, The Minimalist was hovering on the far riverbank, watching them in exasperation.  He glanced right, then left, then came to a decision and headed for the Eiffel Tower.  Very. Very. Slowly.  Watching them as if to say 'well?  Come on then, I won't wait forever.'  
  
The Tower bridge was one of the longer stretches away in this part of the city, though still just about a minute at the speeds they could go.  She had to think.  What could she do?  Chat was almost out of time.  The Seine was narrow enough at the Tower bridge that even if Chat still had Cataclysm the ruse wouldn't work again.  She needed a blind spot to get her Lucky Charm... but it had to be closer to the bridge, or she wouldn't have enough time to get near The Minimalist to use it.  
  
An intersection.  Six cars lay piled up over each other, engines steaming, wedged in such a way that there was a round gap just barely large enough for a couple of people to stand.  Or for one superhero to cast a spell.  
  
"Lucky Charm!"  
  
A man's black trenchcoat and fedora landed in her hands.  What the...?  Wasn't it supposed to be red with spots...?  
  
Oh.  The lining was, on both pieces, like the outer shell was just one giant spot.  
  
What was she supposed to do with these?  
  
She swung herself back up into the chase, the coat a tight bundle in her arms.  Hopefully The Minimalist wouldn't notice.  Or at least, not as much as he would if it was streaming out behind her like some sort of cape.  
  
That was definitely not how she was supposed to use it, she was sure.  
  
They reached the outer corners of the Trocadero Gardens, wooded and oddly peaceful behind their junkyard barrier, and she only had seconds left to figure out what to do with this weird charm!  
  
Her vision grayed out as she cast around for something.  Nothing in the street.  Nothing in the gardens.  Nothing in the cars.  Nothing on the -- oh dieu _on the bridge_ , there was no more time.  
  
High on a lamppost at the very start of the bridge, Chat glowed red in a way that wasn't the quickly-clouding sunset.  
  
"Here!" she shouted, throwing the coat and hat at him.  
  
He caught them easily, bewildered.  "What am I suppurrsed to do with this?!"  
  
"Just-- try something!"  
  
Chat swept the coat around his shoulders and flipped the hat on his head.  "Chat Noir!" he said in a truly terrible American gangster accent.  
  
Ladybug opened her mouth to snap at him -- this was no time for jokes! -- but an inhuman screech of utter, terrified rage the likes of which hadn't even come out of _Chat's_ throat tonight drowned out whatever she would've said.  
  
The Minimalist shot across the river, straight at Chat, like he was going to tear Chat to gory bits right up to his blood-covered elbows.  Chat shrieked and toppled off the lamppost, but The Minimalist was in reach.  
  
Ladybug threw her yo-yo and tore the bowtie wings right off his back.  
  
The Minimalist kept going, right over the lamppost and tumbling end over end across the crashed cars and into the park beyond.  
  
The bowtie was a plain weave, and tore right down the weft easily with her enhanced strength.  The akuma struggled free with a pop, and as always tried to flutter away.  A quick capture and purification took care of that.  
  
Chat clambered over the cars, one ear hanging low.  The coat was draped over one small arm; the hat, held in his other tiny, clawed hand.  As he handed them both to her, his ring beeped.  One spot left.  
  
"I've got to--"  
  
"Go.  Yes."  She gave him just enough time to vault over the cars and out of sight, then threw the Lucky Charm up.  "Miraculous Ladybug!"  It exploded into a swarm of ladybugs.  
  
The cars uncrumpled themselves.  Engines stopped smoking.  Inside, people started to murmur: first as high-pitched children's voices, then -- as the swarm tickled over Ladybug, leaving her fully grown once more -- adults'.  Far down the river, the bridge Chat had broken reassembled, dust pulling itself up out of the water and flowing into solid concrete, cars reappearing in orderly lines.  
  
Orderly lines which didn't happen on the road in front of her.  Ladybug's heart sank.  The cars were repaired, the people okay... but they were still all piled up.  Her miracle wasn't strong enough to fix that part.  
  
Her earring beeped.  One more spot.  
  
Oh no oh no oh no-- Only one place had cover here.  She cast her yo-yo up and over the cars, finding a tree to swing herself across the road, and landed next to a small form that caught weakly at her ankle.  
  
Medium-brown hair.  A little red bowtie and matching sneakers.  A child's blazer, in blue instead of red.  No bloody tear tracks, but she knew the blue eyes and small face under askew glasses.  
  
"He didn't kill her," the boy told her.  "He _didn't_."  And the boy passed out.  
  
They'd crossed a quarter of the city in fighting him.  She had no idea where he came from.  
  
She had maybe thirty seconds left.  
  
She lifted the boy and ran into the park.  If nothing else, he probably wouldn't wake in time to see her detransform... she could just say Ladybug left him with her!  _Oh dieu what do I do_.  
  
Blond hair.  White shirt.  Sitting on a park bench like he wasn't quite sure what had happened or that his legs were steady yet.  Still looked like he was at a photoshoot.  
  
"Adrien!"  Oh thank goodness someone she could trust.  She plopped the boy into his lap, his arms coming up to cradle the child instinctively.  "Akuma victim don't know who I've got to go!" and she ran for the trees.  
  
She barely managed to get behind one before the transformation fell.


	2. Chapter 2

Adrien stared at the shadowy trees where Ladybug had vanished, his mouth dry.  _Did she just...?_  
  
The boy was a warm, heavy weight in his lap.  The akuma victim.  A little boy.  _And Ladybug just trusted me with him._   His spirits rose a bit.  His Lady trusted him with something so precious...  Marinette was one thing, because she was bright and brave and quick-thinking, and could run surprisingly fast, but this was a helpless little kid.  
  
He turned back to actually look at the unconscious child.  Poor kid.  At least he wouldn't remember what'd happened.  Hopefully he wouldn't see it on the news... kids didn't watch that at this age.  Adrien didn't think they did, anyway.  This one had been _horrible_ , the kid didn't need to feel like it was his fault.  
  
Although... horrible as it was, this one was also just weird.  How had it gone... 'adults don't listen to children, so I'm not talking to you until I come get you'?  It was like Papillon had lost control of the akuma.  How on earth had a little kid done that?  
  
Adrien sighed and slumped back onto the bench.  He could hope Papillon was somehow weakening -- though having more akuma like this was just _augh_ , he didn't want to think about it -- but it probably wasn't anything more than picking the wrong trigger.  
  
The kid sighed and curled closer, and all the thoughts fled from Adrien's head, a low rumble starting in his chest.  Yeah, okay, he could just sit here and purr at the kid for a while...  
  
"A-A-Adrien!"  He caught his breath and glanced up to see Marinette jogging towards him, worry written all over her blushing face in the lamplight.  "Thank goodness, I thought I might be stuck here by myself.  Did you see the traffic?"  Then she blinked.  "Who's this?"  
  
Adrien looked back down at the boy, feeling a small smile tug at his mouth.  "I don't actually know.  Ladybug left him with me-- he was the latest akuma victim."  
  
"Oh no, the poor thing..."  She bent and stroked one small hand gently over the child's hair, cupping the back of his head just above where it rested on Adrien's bicep.  
  
"Yeah," Adrien murmured.  Marinette edged around to sit on the bench next to him, her fingers slipping free from the kid's hair.  The thick strands fell neatly back into place.  "Anyway, I figured I should probably wait for emergency services to get here."  
  
Marinette bit her lip and looked out towards the road and the Tower, as if trying to see the hospital beyond sending out ambulances.  "I don't know, Adrien," she said slowly.  "I saw all around the park... I'm not sure they can get through."  
  
Adrien's heart sank.  She was right, more right than she could've known.  If the roads were all like they'd been on the way from the Arc de Triomphe, and of course they would be if even the ones closest to Ladybug when she cast her cure were impassable... "We're stuck."  
  
Marinette nodded.  "I'm sorry."  
  
"What?  No, Mari, it's not your fault."  
  
"But it--!"  She choked back the rest of the sentence, took a breath, and dropped her eyes to the boy.  "It's not right," she said more quietly.  "It's just awful.  To think that this could happen to a little kid... bad enough it happened to Manon."  
  
Oh.  That's what she meant.  "And now he's lost out here," Adrien finished.  "Manon... at least when she was rescued, she was around people who knew who she was."  
  
Marinette nodded again.  "His family must be frantic."  
  
 _Oh god I hope so._   But the way the akumatization had expressed...  _Adults never listen, adults are bad._..  Adrien swallowed.  "I'm sure they are," he lied.  
  
"They must be looking for him, right?" Marinette pressed on.  "And the police will be able to-- um.  Except they're probably swamped from all this.  Hm."  
  
Adrien watched her shoulders straighten and her chin firm, eyes distant as she took charge of planning.  This was the Marinette he kept hoping to get when he talked to her at school.  
  
"I'm calling Alya."  
  
A--Alya?  Adrien blinked, then... of course.  The Ladyblog.  Chances were, the kid's family had seen him akumatize -- or a teacher had or _someone_ \-- and would be watching the news and internet for word.  
  
He could hear Alya when she picked up, giving Marinette no chance to even say hello.  Not that Adrien could tell what she was saying, but the tone was definitely 'where have you _been_ I was worried _sick_ '.  "Alya--" Marinette tried, then wincingly repeated, "Alya!  I-- look, I followed the akuma looking for you--"  
  
She'd done _what?!_  
  
"--and I kind of ended up at the Trocadero?  That's actually why I'm calling, the akuma victim is this little kid and he's unconscious and we don't know what to do for him or even his name!" she finished in one rushed breath.  
  
Silence.  Then, "Adrien, can you lift him up a bit?  Let me get at his shirt tag."  
  
Okay, he had no idea how that would help, but he could do that.  Gently, he tipped the boy up and more centered over his chest, tucking that soft head of hair under his chin so he could drop his arm enough for Marinette to get at the boy's collar.  
  
"Um."  
  
Adrien followed her gaze, and saw the reason and problem immediately.  Someone had written on the tag in black marker, but...  
  
"There's like one word even in alphabet on this and it's 'cotton'," Marinette told Alya.  
  
"It's Japanese," Adrien clarified, raising his voice a little so Alya could hear.  "I can't read it either, but I recognize the script."  Wait, that meant he was a tourist.  Adrien felt himself pale.  "What if he doesn't even speak French?"  
  
Marinette clicked the phone over to speaker even as Alya said, "-- _at narrows things down a lot.  This is good, there's got to be someone around Japanese tourists missing a kid.  Get a pic and I'll post an emergency all-call on the blog_."  
  
Adrien quickly blocked the boy's face with one hand.  "No pictures, Alya.  He's a minor and we don't have parental consent."  
  
Alya huffed static over the connection.  " _I can work with a text description.  And how about a shot of the shirt tag?  Maybe we can't read his name but his parents wil_ l."    
  
Adrien held the collar out for better light, while Marinette snapped the pic then sent it on.  "He's about five to seven," she said, furious typing coming back over the line, "medium brown hair with a cowlick, white short-sleeve buttonfront, blue vest, red bowtie, gray short trousers, red sneakers, browline glasses."  
  
" _Got it!_ "  A couple more clicks, then, " _All hail Google translate, I'm adding that in case the tourists can't read French.  And we're live!_ "  
  
A moment later, Adrien's phone buzzed with the update.  
  
"Never mind Ladybug," Marinette told Alya fondly.  "The Ladyblog's going to be the real hero of Paris tonight."  
  
" _Not yet I'm not_ ," Alya replied, and it wasn't at all the playful rejoinder Adrien would've expected.  " _You guys_..."  She paused.  " _I didn't want to tackle this first, because you can't really do anything, but you said the kid's unconscious?_ "  
  
They both blinked.  "... Yes?" Marinette said.  
  
" _He shouldn't be._ "  
  
"What?!"  
  
Alya sighed.  _"Most people don't know, I don't think, but I've got all the research, and... look, akuma victims get a little shaky about ten minutes after Ladybug frees them.  How long that actually lasts is pretty variable, I mean I felt fine after I had a sandwich and huddled in bed for a little bit, but that's really all that happens."_  
  
No.  No, she couldn't be saying...  
  
" _Something's wrong with the kid._ "  
  
Adrien and Marinette stared at each other in utter horror.  "We can't keep him here," Adrien choked out.  
  
"The hospital."  Marinette looked towards the line of cars, just visible down the path.  "It'll take some climbing, but if we pass him back and forth and spot for each other..."  
  
It might be doable.  Even like this, he was a little stronger even without being transformed.  Though of all the days to forget extra cheese...  As Chat, he could've had the kid halfway there by now.  
  
Marinette, though... she was more athletic than she looked, if gym class was any indication, but was she strong enough to do this?  
  
From the look in her eyes... yes.  Yes, she could.  Even if she had to crawl the last mile before she collapsed.  "I've got him first."  She nodded sharply.  
  
"... _Guys?_ "  
  
"We're taking him to the hospital, Alya."  
  
" _That's... actually really concerning... but it looks like I've got a hit_."  She whistled.  " _Check the post, I think we found the kid's dad_."  
  
"Hold on, don't hang up," Adrien said quickly, before Marinette could switch to the Ladyblog.  "Get mine instead," he said, shifting to expose his back pocket.  Marinette pinked again.  "That way we won't risk dropping Alya."  
  
"... Okay."  
  
Somehow, he completely failed to be surprised when Marinette managed to get the phone out without so much as accidentally brushing against his body.  He should've been surprised, he thought: she designed clothing, surely she knew that a model couldn't really afford to care about where people's hands went on business?  But no, she was scrupulously careful about his personal space.  
  
Once she'd pulled up the site, Marinette quickly scrolled down to the latest two comments on Alya's emergency post.  The first comment was in capslocked Japanese, of which Adrien could only understand 'doko' and 'dare' -- not that he couldn't have guessed the writer was demanding to know where and who they were -- and the second from the same username.  
  
 _bellestsifflets: Sorry, he took my phone.  I'm a bellhop at his hotel and the man's been freaking out trying to leave ever since his son akumatized and his daughter went chasing after the kid.  I think he's trying not to cry right now.  We can't really ask, the kid was doing the translating.  Who are you and is the boy okay?_  
  
Another comment popped up before Marinette could reply.  
  
 _S &Tboulangerie: We brought the boy's sister in off the street while everybody was shrunk.  She says his name is Conan and she's calling her father now.  Please, is he all right?_  
  
Marinette's face lit up.  "We found them!"  And she flung her arms around Adrien's neck, her cheek soft against his.  "I'm so glad," she said thickly, a couple of hot tears burning against his ear and into his hair.  "I get so scared that one day a victim won't have anyone to look after them and they'll get hurt again--"  She whirled away, leaving Adrien sitting stunned as her fingers flew over his phone.  
  
"Not this time," Adrien swore softly, not sure she was hearing him... or even realized what she'd done.  "We won't let it."  No one was going to get this kid on his watch.  No one.  And as for future akuma... he'd think of something.  
  
 _aataku:  Mom!  It's Marinette on Adrien's phone, Ladybug left Conan with him and we're at the Trocadero.  He seems okay but he's asleep and Alya says he shouldn't be.  We're going to take him to the hospital just in case.  Adrien says to tell her 'daijoubu', it means 'he's okay' and that's about all the Japanese he knows._  
  
 _S &Tboulangerie: Thank goodness you're all right!  We've been worried sick!  And then you go and call your best friend instead of your poor old mother, I see how it is.  Are you with Adrien from your class?  I hope so.  He's such a nice young man and you'll be safe with him.  Tell him hello and to stop by sometime after all this so we can thank him.  Keep us updated, and both of you be careful!_  
  
The page refreshed again, and the comments bounced.  Marinette scrolled back to the top.  
  
 _UPDATE: Lost boy's family found!  Teen rescuers Marinette and Adrien en route to hospital!  Find continuing updates on Twitter!  #ordinaryheroesofParis #akuma #Paris_  
  
"Oh no," Marinette groaned.  
  
" _Hey, guys_ ," Alya said.  " _Do you think you could livestream_ \--"  
  
"No!"  
  
" _Aww, but Mari_ \--"  
  
"No, Alya!  I'm putting the phone back in my pocket and it will be audio only!"  
  
" _But-_ -"  
  
"Good _bye_ , Alya!" Marinette half-sang as she did exactly as she'd said, tucking it away in her jacket.  Then she huffed and looked at Adrien resolutely.  "Well, then."  
  
"Well."  Adrien adjusted Conan, shifting him to rest his small head on Adrien's shoulder and his arms over Adrien's shoulders, legs to either side of his waist.  Then he laced his hands under the kid's butt and, with slightly faked effort, stood.  It wasn't nearly as awkward as the bridal carry he would've had if he hadn't repositioned Conan, but moreso than a piggyback would've been.  But they'd be able to pass him back and forth like this, with both their sets of arms available.    
  
Marinette stood too, and they looked out towards the brightly lit Eiffel Tower, and past that to the kilometer or so of densely-packed buildings and roads between its park and the hospital.  "If we can get across the bridge," she said, "straight shot down the park and then consider our route?"  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
The cars, when they reached them, looked a lot more daunting from ground level than they had crumpled and steaming under Chat's feet.  Repairing them had made them take up more space, too, shoving them to odder angles across the traffic lanes than they'd been at before.  Many of the doors had been left open by escaping drivers, filling some gaps and blocking other doors, making the footing rather more treacherous: the thin edges could easily break a foot or slice into flesh, especially at the corners, and even if it didn't there was no support.  All it'd take would be an unwary step, and someone would fall and break much worse than a foot.  
  
On top of all that, some of those cars looked balanced pretty precariously.  
  
"The red one," Marinette said, pointing.  "Over the hood, then--"  
  
"The SUV's roof, the one on the right."  
  
"Yeah, and then that white van on its side--"  
  
"The backseat of the convertible."  
  
"Under the ugly car tilted up on the blue one's trunk."  The asphalt was going to be unpleasant, but Adrien had to agree, that was the best route.  
  
"Down the length of the pickup truck."  
  
She nodded.  "And reassess at the gap on the corner."  
  
Definitely.  He could see a route past that, but it could look very different once they got there.  "Let's go."  
  
Marinette climbed up first, on her knees, and Adrien passed Conan more over to her then upwards before climbing on himself.  The hood of the first car was still a little warm under his hands, which Adrien hadn't factored in when calculating the route.  That part shouldn't be too much of a problem, as the night was cooling things quickly and the wind was picking up... but the dropping temperatures themselves would get to be trouble soon.  He climbed up onto the SUV roof, knelt, and took Conan from Marinette.  
  
The van, though it was a simple step down not much deeper than a regular stair, rocked worryingly when Marinette stepped on it.  She lay flat and let Adrien drape Conan over her, then he held the near edge of the van down as she pushed herself across and slid into the convertible.  He found her leaning against the van's undercarriage to keep it stable for his own careful slither over it and into place in the front seat.  She quirked a little smile at him, then, "I'll take him under.  It's a tight fit," and passed Conan to Adrien.  
  
Alya was definitely right.  There had to be something wrong.  Even the most exhausted kid would wake up getting jostled around like this, even as careful as they were trying to be, wouldn't they?  
  
The convertible door didn't have space to open all the way, but there was enough room to wiggle out, with Conan's sneakers thumping against the door's rounded top.  Marinette had already pushed herself backwards into the awkward triangular space under the ugly car's engine, holding out her arms while Adrien studied the space.  
  
He caught her eye, and she spread her legs just a bit.  It gave him enough room to curl himself under the front tire backwards, laying on the ground between her knees, and pass Conan over his face.  
  
Marinette scooted backwards and vanished from sight, and he turned back over and crawled after her.  
  
From there, getting the pickup's tailgate open was easy, with Marinette passing Conan up so Adrien could pick his way through the workmen's junk scattered across the bed.  Marinette took Conan onto the roof, Adrien took him across the hood, and Marinette steadied him as he slid to the bumper and then the road.  
  
The route down the bridge that Adrien had seen from the start turned out to be covered with vending machine bottles that, while intact, hadn't been put back in their pallets or the truck they'd fallen from.  But another, longer route circled them past the bottles, and the Eiffel Tower Park was clear, with passable gaps between the formerly-crashed cars on both roads cutting across it.  It may have been because the major road had curves that sent the cars skidding diagonally up onto parkspace, but still, there was enough space for them to walk.  
  
They managed to get nearly three quarters of the way down the park's grassy length when the skies opened up.  
  
Adrien barely managed not to hiss at the sudden downpour.  Marinette, though, hastily shucked her jacket and draped it over Conan.  "Hold on, I need to get his arms through," she said, pulling said arms off Adrien's shoulders and doing so.  With a quick zip that was only a little sharper than the sound of the rain, Conan's warm weight slumped over Adrien's back again.  "Thank goodness I wore the one with the hood," she muttered, with one last tug of fabric that Adrien heard more than felt.  
  
"You're going to freeze."  
  
"So are you, your 'jacket' is a summerweight cotton shirt."  
  
Too true.  "Better us than the kid," Adrien said with a wry little grin, and she nodded sharply in agreement.  
  
They pressed on.  
  
The Place Joffre was completely blocked.  Several buses had been on the road when the akuma hit, and now were angled across traffic lanes with cars jammed precariously between them.  
  
Marinette took Conan as Adrien shimmied up a street sign partly by way of the parking meter next to it, hoping that a higher angle might help him see a way through.  "Alya!" Marinette half-shouted at the boy's jacket pocket, hefting him high on her torso, "we can't get past Place Joffre!  We're going to have to go north!"  She glanced up at Adrien, and he shook his head.  No luck with seeing a way through.  He gestured north with one long sweep of his arm, then saluted and gestured east, then saluted again and aimed south, an even longer stretch he needed his other hand to complete.  "We're going to try to get to the Army Museum and take the greenspace south to Necker!" she said, and Adrien gave her a thumbs-up before sliding back to the ground.  
  
Past Joffre, past the military school where they'd hoped to turn east and couldn't, the street was bracketed by high buildings.  Cars that had been parked were jammed up against ground-level storefronts, squeezed between iron pillars that were supposed to protect the sidewalk, or tipped up on one set of tires by iron fencing that was meant to do the same.  The cars that hadn't been parked were not quite the same as at the Trocadero, rush hour traffic clustered in snakelike curves and jumbled blobs across the road, with broad gaps spaced irregularly between.  
  
From the positioning of some of the cars, Adrien was pretty sure they'd actually crashed inside the stores before Ladybug's cure had fixed what it could.  So many people would've been hurt... so much damage everywhere... no wonder it ran out of power.  
  
"We might get all the way to the Invalides before we can find a way south," Adrien eventually said.  The way would be through the museum grounds instead of from its back end, but it was still south.  
  
Marinette peered out from under a car up on a fence.  "... Do you think we should try for home instead of the hospital?"  
  
"We'd be a lot closer to it.  And with the rain..."  
  
She glanced worriedly at the sky, then at Conan.  "... We'll decide when we get there."  
  
They got there.  
  
He'd forgotten about the old moat.  
  
And the museum gate was locked.  
  
Adrien sagged.  "Bakery?"  
  
"Bakery."  
  
Good.  He couldn't imagine taking a cold, sick child into _his_ place, that's for sure, and the hotel... Conan's father might be there, but so was Chloe.  She'd drag him away from Conan and make this entire awful night about herself.  
  
No.  Just no.  
  
The bridge at the end of the Invalides was wide enough that, even with the bus lying on its side across this end, there was enough space to get around it and over the river.  
  
Just another block.  Most of it was park anyway, the park inside a square of buildings that ended in the Dupain-Cheng bakery.  They just had to get over one last pileup at an intersection to get into the park.  
  
On the trunk of the last car, Marinette's foot slipped.  
  
Adrien found himself crouched on the ground, curled protectively around Conan, with Marinette heavy on his back.  "You okay?"  
  
"Yes.  Are you?" Marinette asked back.  "Is _he_?"  
  
"We're fine."  Carefully, Adrien straightened, letting Marinette slide off and catch her balance on him.  "You don't weigh much."  Well, more than such a short, slim girl should.  She had to be all muscle, even if she didn't look it.  No wonder she'd kept up, even with him having the superpowers.  "You should eat more."  
  
"Oh no I shouldn't."  Marinette laughed.  "You should see my mom with the grocery budget.  She goes on about how she has no idea where I put it all, and then the next minute she warns me I'm going to get diabetic from all the cookies I sneak."  
  
"You?  A cookie thief?"  Adrien gasped.  "No.  I won't believe it, you're sweet enough already."  
  
She went bright red, but gamely shot back, "Stay long enough and Mom'll have you half-sugar too.  And then you'll need a dozen cookies a week just to keep going."  
  
Adrien had to stifle a broad Chatlike grin.  The little punch of energy from the fall had really woken up his Chat side.  Perfect timing for once, it'd wear off just in time for him to have someplace to crash hard.  "I could use more sugar in my life."  
  
"Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about cookies anymore."  
  
 _Do not grin do not grin do not grin_.  "I have no idea--" _And definitely don't call her Purrincess!_   "--Mari."  
  
The bakery shone like a warm beacon in the rain, open well after its closing hours, the scent of fresh bread pulling Adrien in as fast as the light and promise of being dry did.  
  
"We're home!" Marinette called.  
  
"Conan-kun!"  
  
A teenage girl as tall as Adrien -- rather than the nine-or-ten-year-old he'd somehow been expecting -- came running up, a blanket still clutched around her shoulders.  "Oh Conan-kun," and murmured something in Japanese as she lifted the boy from Adrien's arms.  
  
The sudden lack of weight made Adrien wobble, suddenly noticing just how sore his arms -- and pretty much everything else -- were.  But then Marinette's parents came hurrying out with open arms and thick towels, and Sabine hugged him even as she wrapped the towel, fresh-from-the-dryer warm, around him.  "Oh, Adrien, just look at you, you're exhausted!"  
  
Warm.  Hug.  
  
He glanced over at Marinette with-- it wasn't panic, it really wasn't, just.  Hug.  What.  But Marinette was nearly invisible in her own towel and her father's huge arms, the man's relieved joy bigger than his bulk around his daughter.  
  
(And suddenly, now that it was no longer in sight, Adrien realized Marinette's white shirt had been soaked through and transluscent for over half the journey.  ... Her bra had been really cute.  Little pink polka dots.)  
  
"Erm."  
  
Conan's sister pushed back into the budding cacophony.  "Arigatou!  Arigatou gozaimasu!" she said, bobbing her head deeply.  She couldn't bow, not while holding Conan.  
  
He could not for the life of him remember how to say 'you're welcome'.  "Ah... daijoubu, daijoubu..." he tried.  
  
"You've done so well, Adrien," Marinette's mother told him, even as she started to pull him towards the back of the bakery.  "Thank goodness you're all right."  
  
He could do it all again for her smile.  "I'm..." He had no idea what to say.  "I'm just glad we could get him someplace safe.  And out of the rain."  Oh, and credit where it was due.  "I couldn't have done it without Mari," he added honestly.  
  
"And she couldn't have done it without you," Sabine said, somehow ushering both him and Conan's sister up the stairs despite the language barrier.  "Come, come, you must be starving."  
  
Right behind them, Marinette yawned.  "Oh man.  I want to eat and then go die."  
  
"We have the living room set up for everybody."  Indeed, the couches had been pulled back from where Adrien remembered them being the last time he was here, the floor piled high with mattresses and bedding.  The dining table was set for four, with large lidded bowls, a basket of fresh bread under a cloth napkin, and what had to be the largest teapot in the house.  "Alya's been keeping us updated."  Sabine took Conan from his sister, and shooed her over to the table with Adrien and Marinette.  "Go, sit, eat."  
  
Adrien and Conan's sister aimed for the same seat, which Adrien conceded to the girl as soon as he realized which one she wanted.  He took the one with the second-best view of the living room, and they both tiredly watched Sabine unwrap Conan from Marinette's jacket and briskly bundle him up into a pair of drawstring pajamas nearly twice his size.  They had to belong to Marinette.  She should wear that shade of lavender more often...  
  
Soon enough, Sabine tucked Conan in and gently took his glasses away.  "Well, then," she said as she folded them.  "If he's sick, it's nothing I've ever seen.  We'll keep an eye out for a fever."  And she handed the glasses to Conan's sister.  "We haven't done introductions yet, have we?  Mademoiselle Ran, Adrien, Marinette.  Eat up, your soup will do you no good cold, Adrien," she added as she poured him tea.  
  
For the rest of his life, Adrien would never be able to remember what kind of soup or tea Sabine served that night.  Only how good the makeshift beds felt when he finally collapsed onto them.


	3. Chapter 3

Conan woke bleary, sore, and warm.  
  
This was not the hotel.  Even with thick curtains darkening the room, he was too close to the floor, in some sort of sleepover nest surrounded by pale living room furniture.  The scent of fresh bread and sweets hung very lightly in the air and radiated faintly from the blankets.  A bakery?  
  
There was a pretty blond boy, maybe fourteen or so, blinking awake in the next sleeping bag.  Conan had no idea who he was.  
  
"Oh thank god," the boy murmured in French after a moment of gazing sleepily at Conan.  His face smoothed out of lines of worry so faint Conan hadn't noticed they were there until they vanished.  "Um, I mean, daijoubu?"  
  
"I'm fine," Conan replied in his admittedly simple French.  "Who are you?  Where am I?"  _What happened_ , he wanted to add, but he had the strangest feeling he didn't want to remember.  
  
Faint screaming far beneath his feet, a flash of a child in red--  
  
"Adrien Agreste," the blond boy said, pushing himself up slowly.  The blankets puddled onto his lap, an enormous blue T-shirt slipping off one slim shoulder.  So this wasn't his house, if he didn't have anything closer to his size to wear.  Probably not a friend's, either, since Adrien was well on the small side for his age, unless that friend was a giant.  
  
Or, Conan revised, seeing the trail of black hair and slim pink-clad shoulders behind Adrien, that friend was a girl smaller than him so he was stuck with her parents' clothes.  
  
Still not Adrien's house.  
  
"We're at the Dupain-Cheng bakery," Adrien went on.  Ah.  Black-haired girl's place.  "There was... kind of a disaster, but everyone's okay now."  
  
Disaster.  People okay _now_ meaning they presumably hadn't all been _then_.  Conan sat up, mostly ignoring the way his own pajamas slid around too loose and huge on himself as well.  Nevermind not wanting to remember.  "What happened?"  
  
"Ah.  That's."  Adrien rubbed a hand through his messy hair.  "Kind of a long story.  How good is your French?"  _Not good enough to convince the police_ , Conan thought.  "Shoot.  Okay.  You, um, wouldn't happen to know English or Mandarin, would you?"  
  
"English!"  Thank gods.  "I lived for a long time in America."  
  
Adrien's face brightened.  "Wonderful," he said in slightly-accented English.  "You've heard how Paris has superheroes, right?"  
  
What did that have to do with anything?  "I read about it on the flight over," Conan admitted.  But, "It seems like a really weird publicity stunt or something."  Adrien blinked.  "I mean, they can't be really."  
  
Superheroes.  Sheesh.  
  
"... No, they really are.  I've been rescued by them before.  My school kind of gets attacked a lot."  
  
Uh huh.  "Magic doesn't exist," Conan said flatly.  He could almost buy the 'spandex-clad superheroes running around edging the laws of physics as much as he did' part, but the supervillains, the ridiculous powers, the way that one young blogger was a terrible terrible actress and couldn't even pretend to be scared when a so-called villain 'kidnapped' her... no.  Absolutely not.  
  
Adrien studied him for a long moment.  Then he looked around, leaned over to snag the remote from under the TV, and turned it on.  
  
It'd already been tuned to a news station.  A redheaded reporter stared with perfect professional sobriety into the camera, before a backdrop of a freeway packed with eeriely silent cars, five tow trucks across six lanes of deadlocked jumbled traffic at various stages of hooking up what cars they could reach.   "-- _ehind me_ ," she was saying, "t _ow trucks from outlying areas are removing abandoned cars from the 94th department.  Drivers say it may be days before the roads are passable again."_  
  
Adrien hit mute, watching Conan with gentle eyes.  "No one would do that for a publicity stunt."  On the tv, scenes of abandoned cars piled in pristine roadblocks continued, French headlines scrolling across the bottom of the screen.  "No one _could_.  Not in any normal way."  
  
Conan swallowed.  Magic.  "When you've eliminated the impossible..."  
  
"Yup."  
  
His presence here... the way Adrien was speaking so carefully and gently around something... superheroes and the impossible way all of Paris had been brought to a clear state of emergency... the missing hours his mind was shying away from... Conan swallowed.  "What did I do?"  
  
" _It wasn't you_."  Adrien caught him by the shoulders, giving him a little shake.  "That thing _was. not. you_.  Not in any way that matters."  Conan stared up at him, and Adrien let one hand drop, keeping the other in place comfortingly.  "These things... akuma, we call them... they grab onto people.  A moment of frustration, anger, of 'it's not fair'.  Feelings that are perfectly normal and healthy to have... feelings people _need_ to have if they're going to make the world a better place, because sometimes things are wrong and have to be fixed... but this guy's using them against everyone.  So it comes in and takes over, takes that one moment of frustration and makes a monster out of it using your body.  But it's _not you_."  
  
"... You got turned into one too, didn't you."  
  
Adrien made a startled sound and froze.  "No, actually," he admitted.  "I'm one of the only people in my class who hasn't been.  But my classmates... and there's a blog, people talk about this stuff a lot in the comments."  He paused.  "And a couple of the akuma had mind-control powers and caught me with them.  I nearly k--hurt someone.  Badly."  
  
Oh.  
  
A pause, then Adrien quirked a little grin.  "Being an akuma's knight is a real knightmare."  
  
_He did not_.  Conan stared, and Adrien's grin broadened.  _He did._  
  
Conan reached into the bedding, got a grip of pillowy doom, and whapped Adrien smartly upside the head.  Adrien toppled over, snickering, and with that the heavy mood broke.  Conan got the pillow firmly with both hands and kept whapping the laughing boy, hoping to keep it up for the poor kid.  
  
"Oh no!  Pillows!  My one weakness!" Adrien gasped out between laughter and pillow thwaps.  
  
"Wha' the--?" The black-haired girl woke abruptly.  "What are you two doing?"  
  
"Mari, help, the kid's too strong!"  Ugh, kid, but if Adrien wouldn't fight back because Conan was 'a little kid'... well, all was fair in war and pillow fights.  "Ack!"  
  
"Nan da--?"  
  
"Morning, Ran-neechan!" Conan caroled.  "Adrien-san makes bad puns and needs punished!"  
  
Instead of helping, Ran snatched him up in a tight hug from behind.  "We were so _worried!_ "  Oh no, no, please don't cry, he didn't mean to make her cry again, how did he keep stupidly finding new ways to do that?  "You wouldn't wake up..."  
  
Er.  "I was probably just jet-lagged," Conan tried as he wriggled loose just enough to turn and face her, plastering on innocence as best he could.  "It was a really long day yesterday, even before the case!  I don't think I slept on the flight at _all_."  Or the night before, to be honest.  And there was the rush of packing and everything the day before.  And his panicky examination of the passport that'd shown up with a note from his 'mother'.  
  
From the dismayed look Ran was giving him, she was remembering all that too.  "Oh Conan-kun..." she murmured, hugging him again.  "No wonder you crashed like that."  
  
Okay, okay, he really liked the hugs but they were in front of near-strangers.  Conan glanced over his shoulder to see Adrien looking oddly wistful, Mari finger-combing her hair in a very obvious display of nonchalance.  
  
"But Ran-neechan, why are we _here_?" Conan asked.  "Adrien-san just said there was a huge mess and it wasn't my fault..."  
  
Ran explained.  She hadn't seen much of the akuma thing, and didn't know what Adrien did about that, but she'd... she'd chased the thing until it turned her very painfully into a child.  (Conan felt himself go dead white.  That was too much of a clue to what he was... and it also explained the traffic.)  The bakery owners had brought her and several locals in off the street, where she'd worried until Conan's missing persons report had popped up on Mme. Cheng's phone.  
  
Then the storm, just to add insult to injury.  The French teens had literally carried him to safety on a four-hour hike through streets the police didn't want anyone out on.  Which was why Ran and Conan were still there: Mme. Cheng had insisted, mostly through gestures for Ran, that she didn't want anyone else going back out in that.  
  
Sometime during this explanation, Marinette -- not Mari, as Adrien had called her -- slipped away, returning near the end of it with two piles of newly-dried boys' clothing.  "Your shoes and tie are still drying," she told Conan, once Ran had subsided, "but I'm sure you'll feel better once you've changed.  And, um, A-Adrien, here are yours!" she added with a bright blush.  
  
By the time he returned, having found his glasses waiting on the bathroom counter for him, Conan felt like a person again.  Adrien, coming down a set of steep stairs in the kitchen, looked like he was stepping into a photoshoot instead of drowning in his clothes, and gave Conan the oddest look in the kitchen's daylight.  
  
"Is there something on my face, Adrien-san?"  
  
Adrien smirked.  "Just a pair of glasses."    
  
"You think you're soooo funny..." Conan muttered, following Adrien back into the living room.  During the boys' absence, Ran and Marinette had managed to find a movie, which would thankfully replace the ongoing muted montage of Paris they'd forgotten was playing.  
  
Conan curled into Ran, and let the familiar opening theme of Spirited Away sweep thoughts of akuma completely out of his head.  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
" _Area hospitals continue to be swamped in the wake of the last akuma attack_ \--"  Click. "-- _calling himself The Minimalist, the akuma turned tens of thousands of adults into children throughout the inner ring and the southernmost districts of department 95_ \--"  Click.  " _Authorities ask that no one attempt to travel within or report to hospitals in the 75th, 92nd, 93rd, or 94th departments without life-threatening injuries_ \--"  Click.  " _Thousands of area residents have opened their homes to stranded motorists and tourists_ \--"  
  
Click.  " _From The Ladyblog, one of the most famous internet sources of information about our superheroes, comes a heartwarming story.  Two young teens rescued an unconscious seven-year-old boy, carrying him to safety in last night's storm after the akuma attack_ \--"  
  
"Dammit, Meitantei."  This channel of French news showed snapshots of the trio, camera phone pictures taken from second- and third-story windows as the children climbed over cars in heavy rain.  He'd know that little idiot anywhere, even under someone else's coat, with those terrifying sneakers and the damn glasses too large for his face.  "You're always in the middle of everything!  And that akuma's powers---"  
  
_Of_ course _he was the akuma last night._  
  
_Stupid, infuriating, overcurious little_ critic--  
  
He grabbed for his monocle, and only barely registered the faint fluttering under his palm before it vanished.  
  
_Children are so much trouble, aren't they, Custodian?  Always rushing around into danger, never staying where they're safe... wouldn't you like to fix that?_  
  
Kid hissed.  "Yes."  
  
  
-0-0-0  
  
  
After the movie, Sabine brought in a massive tray of food, very nearly a table in its own right, and asked to watch the evening news.  
  
Adrien and Mari glanced at Conan, who nodded, and Mari switched it back over to the news.  
  
Adrien really didn't want to watch more about the mess from last night, so he bent over his bowl of ragout and ate in a way his father never let him do, large fast bites between sneaking cheese down to his kwami.  (His father could go on repeatedly about decorum and Adrien's career, but it was the scoldings Nathalie got when Adrien slipped up that kept him behaving like a prince alone at the table instead of a hungry teenager.)  
  
(No one here would ever let Gabriel know, though.)  
  
Beef ragout.  Sabine was a goddess.  Mm...  
  
Suddenly, the volume on the TV leapt up.  "-- _reaking news!_ "  Adrien glanced up, catching a glimpse of Sabine's stricken face and her hand clenched on the remote before he saw the tv.  Specifically, the blurry white shape zipping across rooftops in a way that only he, Ladybug, and akuma ever did.  " _A new akuma has appeared, kidnapping children from their homes!_ "  
  
A lump of beef slipped from his spoon and plopped forlornly back into his bowl.  
  
" _His trajectory is taking him across the 20th, 11th, 3rd, 1st, 21st, 8th, and 16th arrondissements!  Parents are advised-_ -"  
  
"I have to go!" Adrien yelped, at the same instant Marinette did.  "I have to, um, call Nathalie!"  
  
"And I have to call Alya!" Marinette said.  "Adrien you can use my room I'll use the balcony be right back bye!"  
  
He rushed for the stairs up to her room, following her up through the trapdoor and barely noticing as she continued up to her bed and out.    
  
As soon as the second trapdoor fell shut, "Plagg, claws out!"  And he leapt for the round window that would let him escape without Marinette seeing him.  
  
He fell into step next to Ladybug barely a second after he reached the rooftops.  She must've been on her way already... and the border between the first and third arrondissements was short, squeezed between the second and fourth.  Pairing that with the other arrondissements the akuma was aimed to pass through, they'd see him within a block on either side of this path.  
  
Children.  The akuma was targeting _children_.  Between that and last night's Lucky Charm's incomplete nature... Ladybug had to be in a terrible headspace to fight effectively.  Cue distraction!  "It feels like it's been furever, My Lady."  
  
"It hasn't even been a _day_."  
  
"Ah, too long to be apurrt from you!"  
  
"Chat!"  
  
Chat gave her his flirtiest, broadest grin, and could see when she found her mental center once more.  It almost seemed to click her expression back into purroper Ladybug confidence.  
  
They were nearly halfway across the eleventh before they saw the akuma.  They didn't even need to swerve: it was coming right at them, and stopped short when they blocked its path on top of the Bataclan theatre.  
  
It seemed almost an inverse of The Minimalist.  Pure white, with the same tux-like lapels over a bright red shirt and tie, it had white dress gloves and a pristine top hat over a smooth skintight hood.  It had only one eye masked, a black diamond on its left; the other eye held a monocle dangling a black charm.  
  
Chat had the weirdest sense of deja vu, even stronger than when he'd seen Conan in full daylight earlier in the kitchen.  
  
The akuma straightened himself up to his full height, clicked the heels of his bodysuit together, and swept his hat off with a deep courtly bow.  "Allow me to introduce myself," he said genteelly.  "I am The Custodian.  And you, of course, would be the lovely Mademoiselle Ladybug and Monsieur Chat.  I know a lovely lady who once went by that name, though without the impurressive magical powers, but I digress."  Good lord the akuma had punned.  He settled his top hat back on his head, angling his shoulders as if expecting a cape, and continued, "My dears, I understand that you feel bound to oppose me, and I do appreciate your efforts to protect your home, however," his face darkened.  "I must _get my pesky critic before he gets his suicidal little butt in trouble again_."  Ah, there was the terrifying akuma insanity.  "So if you would, please. _Bug. Off._ "  
  
And he zipped right between them and away while they were still too off-balance by his sheer manners to fire a shot.  
  
They bolted in pursuit, of course, Chat's mind racing.  
  
White tux.  Top hat.  Monocle.  A cape that should be there.  Deja vu.  
  
"I _mew_ I recognized that kid!"  And Chat yanked out his baton to call the bakery, not replying when his Lady asked what he was talking about.  "Hello, Mme. Cheng?  It's Chat Noir.  Could  you put Conan on the phone please?"  
  
" _How do you even-- of course, dear_."  The line clunked a couple of times, Sabine's voice calling faintly for the boy.  
  
Then, "... _Hello?_ " Conan asked warily.  
  
"Hey, kitten.  I heard you were in Paris.  Would you happen to have come here for a reason?"  
  
The line buzzed with static as Conan huffed loudly.  " _Yeah, Kaitou Kid sent a heist notice.  I think he's the akuma_."  Of course he was.  The Custodian looked too much like the famous thief, of course he couldn't be anyone else.  " _How did you know to call the bakery?_ " the boy asked.  
  
"Hello, magical superhero."  Ladybug swung them over a broad street.  "Also, your little adventure last night was all over Twitter.  Hashtag ordinaryheroesofParis.  Anyway, I just wanted to confirm that.  Go hide someplace, okay?  I'm sure the lovely lady of the house has someplace you can go."  
  
" _Wait!_ "  Chat hmmed a query.  " _Where's a place you might want to fight him more than on residential rooftops?_ "  
  
"... The Bastille?"  It wasn't too far out of their way, plenty of open space to minimize collateral damage, and there was a large modern building with a sort of stairstep effect on its glass front, which would be good for gaining height while keeping use of his baton.  
  
" _Tell him I've gone to play in traffic there._ "  And Conan hung up.  
  
Whatever might work.  "So, My Lady?  Please don't kill me," Chat said, getting an odd look out of her before he raised his voice and shouted, "Hey, Custodian!" He waved his baton, showing the phone part of it clearly.  "Your critic's gone off to play in traffic!  He says the Place de la Bastille looks like fun!"  
  
The Custodian nearly fell off a lamppost, arms windmilling to catch himself.  With a loud Japanese curse, he spun on his toes and turned south.  
  
"What did you _do_?" Ladybug yelled as they changed direction too.  
  
"I went to the expurrt!"  
  
"All you did was change The Custodian's direction so unsuspecting parents won't kn..." Ladybug trailed off, watching the akuma ahead.  "... He's not stealing children anymore."  
  
Chat nodded.  "He's too focused on last night's victim," he said, not quite realizing it until he said it.  "Conan _Edogawa_.  Not Mouri, like his family is.  He's famous in Japan for his ability to go toe-to-toe with Kid the Phantom Thief."  
  
Ladybug considered that for only a split second before her head whipped around to the akuma.  "Chat Noir _are we chasing an actual professional criminal?_ "  
  
"Only a harmless one!"  Er.  "... When he's sane."  
  
That clearly did not go over well at all with his Lady.  
  
It went over even more poorly when they reached the square and found The Custodian perched daintily atop the golden angel high on the July column at it center, firing a _gun_ into the gridlock of cars and shoving the mess of them around even worse.  
  
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The Custodian sang.  His next shot made a tiny Fiat do a sort of sideways pirouette in midair before squashing itself flat.  
  
"Are you insane?!" Ladybug shouted.  "You're going to squash the kid flat before you can catch him!"  
  
Good save.  Except it turned The Custodian's attention onto them.  "An excellent point, m'lady," The Custodian purred, and what no he was _stealing Chat's lines_.  "If he would just SHOW UP WHEN PEOPLE ARE WORRIED ABOUT HIM--"  
  
Papillon's outline blazed into life on The Custodian's face.  
  
He somersaulted over Ladybug's yo-yo when she made an admittedly cheap shot at his head, caught himself on the angel statue's wings, then flipped back onto its head over the swipe of Chat's extended baton, completely unruffled and poised as if he hadn't needed to so much as twitch.  "Ah, mon cher Papillon," he said, resting one gloved hand over his heart.  "I thank you deeply for the powers.  However, I have reason to believe you cannot, in fact, remove them against my will.  Therefore I shall be picking up my critic before returning your favor, as I can get your stupid jewelry in five seconds flat but that's five seconds I can't afford to have that _suicidal brat_ running loose."  
  
The outline pulsed, and The Custodian's eyes narrowed.  
  
"... _That_ point, on the other hand, is well-made.  I will suffer NO INTERFERENCE!" he shouted, firing his gun at them.  
  
They leapt away, and a playing card sent the shingles where they'd stood spinning over the roof peak and out of sight.  
  
"That... is going to be a paw-blem."  
  
The next shot fired a gob of amber-colored goop, which missed Ladybug by a mile.  The one shot right after that hit the ground right where she was about to land, and it was only a quick yank backwards with her yo-yo that sent her tumbling to the side and over a parked car that saved her.  
  
A third blob went straight for Chat.  He spun his baton up into a shield, watching for sneak goo or the cards hidden in its wake.  The goo hit near his hands with a heavy splat.  It was only the subtle shift in balance that had him dropping the baton before the gunk swarmed up over his hands.  As it was, the stuff covered his baton entirely, cementing it to the ground, before it paused and shattered.  
  
"Shields won't work, My Lady!" he shouted, grabbing the freed baton and vaulting away from another shot.  Then another, and another, all of them hitting bits of cars or streetscape and shattering immediately.  Somehow they didn't seem to try to cover those things like they had his baton...  
  
Chat landed at the base of a lamppost, watching the gun shift back to him from Ladybug.  _Hypothesis: this one_ will _move when it hits._   Aim-- fire-- leap for the top of the post.  The goop went splat at the bottom right when he hit the lampshade, and shot up hungrily at him.  Chat backflipped away before the goop touched him, and watched it go still over the post before shattering free again.  
  
Okay.  It only moved if it hit something touching a living thing.  Shields _definitely_ wouldn't work.  
  
He dodged several more shots, each time trying to hit the gun out of The Custodian's hands, but the goo was too fast.  He had to drop his baton and reclaim it several times, but of course his luck quickly ran out.  
  
Fuck.  "Cataclysm!" he shouted as the amber shot up from his fingertips, over his arm and torso and legs.  He barely got the last syllable out before it covered his mouth.  
  
The amber exploded, heavy pine-scented shards disintegrating around his feet.  
  
"-- _at!_ " Ladybug finished screaming.  
  
"Lucky me, I had an escape clawse!" Chat yelled back.  One-time escape, and now he had five minutes before he had to back out of the fight.  Hopefully Papillon had _not_ mentioned those parts to The Custodian.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Chat's stomach froze.  _No_.  No, that stupid little-- _no_.  
  
Conan stood right in the middle of the road to the 21st arrondissement, rumpled and breathing hard like he'd just run the entire way, glaring up at The Custodian.  
  
The Custodian lit up like all his Christmases had come early.  "Meitantei!"  He fired twice.  
  
Conan yelped, like he'd somehow expected a moment to talk to the guy, and the first hit -- a card -- broke something glassy in his shoe, sending sparks flying like there'd been electronics in there.  The second -- a blob -- hit his other foot.  
  
The kid whacked the gob with his sparking foot, and it went up in flames.  
  
The Custodian shrieked in pure panic.  "OFF!  OFF!!!!"  The amber exploded loose again, flying bits landing on other failed shots and catching them on fire as well.  But Conan looked unharmed, at least.  "OF ALL THE STUPID INSANE MASOCHISTIC DEATH WISH STUNTS ARE YOU _TRYING_ TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?!"  
  
"Heh."  Conan grinned unpleasantly at the akuma.  "You can't catch me now."  He tapped the sparking foot against the ground, crouched and pressed at the side of his other shoe.  "It'll just all catch on fire."  
  
_Like the entire square,_ Chat thought, as the air thickened with pine-scented smoke and the blaze started to spread.  _The Custodian's right, this kid is_ insane.  
  
"My lady, I am _so sorry_ I called the expurrt."  
  
Then The Custodian aimed his gun straight out at an oblique angle in none of their directions, and fired.  
  
Conan kicked a piece of rubble like a rocket into the card, knocking it away before it could hit a fire hydrant.  
  
His ring beeped as Chat knocked another away from the next one.  If The Custodian got the water going, he could put the fires out and they'd be right back at square one.  Now with 50% more hostage!  No.  
  
Another beep.  Ladybug and Chat both had been knocking cards away from the fire hydrants and dodging amber goo -- both fired and on fire alike -- for over a minute.  Chat had no idea where Conan was.  He barely knew where his Lady was.  The only reason he hadn't lost track of the akuma was that it kept shooting at things.  
  
Ladybug needed to cast her Lucky Charm.  
  
She needed a couple of seconds out of the line of fire to do that.  
  
Chat locked eyes with his Lady and deliberately let the next blob hit.  
  
Inside the amber, the world was silent and still.  Chat could still see everything in warm golden sepia: the raging fires on the ground, Ladybug's horrified silent cry of his name and then her Lucky Charm, the akuma's gloved fingertips grown huge in his peripheral vision, where they plucked him gently from the air as if he'd been shrunk down to palm-size...  
  
A fall of shadowy fabric, like Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, and the sepia tones brightened back into slightly-desaturated true color.  His Lady had vanished.  
  
Slowly, The Custodian turned, and the scenery turned with him.  No Ladybug.  No Conan.  Plenty of fire, plenty of piled cars, plenty of bright wavering reflections in the windshields and the glass front of the Opera Bastille... Ladybug was probably there, close enough to the windows to not cast an obvious shadow, her bright red suit invisible against the mirrored fires, the black of her spots and hair excellent camoflage as long as she kept moving.  
  
The Custodian must know that too.  
  
A flash of movement to the left.  The Custodian turned, to find Conan crouched on a crumpled car roof, eyes wide with shock and pinned to The Custodian's.  
  
_No!_    
  
The Custodian aimed.  
  
_No I didn't let myself get caught for this!_  
  
The Custodian fired.  
  
The goo hit Conan flatly and shattered.  Ladybug's yo-yo flashed huge across Chat's vision, smashing into the akuma's monocle.  Chat's prison fell, a surge of instinctive adrenaline _I can't catch myself_ , and clattered against asphalt.  
  
Pieces of glass and bent wire landed on the outside of the amber.  Ladybug's yo-yo crossed his vision again, snapping up a butterfly that'd been nearly invisible against the smoke-darkened twilight.  
  
A red-spotted rectangle tumbled upwards into the dark sky, flashing a split-second reflection of The Custodian collapsed between piles of rubble on the street.  The Lucky Charm had been a mirror. The Custodian's final shot must've been aimed at a reflection of Conan, not the boy himself.  
  
Miraculous Ladybugs swarmed Chat's prison, and he found himself flat on his back on the street, blinking dazedly up at his Lady.  And Conan.  And -- he found as he rolled to his side to push himself up -- a cowering slim man wearing a black tracksuit.  
  
Conan stepped carefully past Chat, right up to the victim.  Kaitou Kid.  Ignoring how the man's arms were flung up in front of his face, he leaned forward.  "You stole my cousin's face again, didn't you," he asked calmly.  
  
The man's arms dropped, revealing he was... young.  Ran's age, at best.  Blue eyes stared at Conan in sick, exhausted horror.  "Meitantei..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I _kidnapped children_."  
  
"I tortured people."  
  
Kid opened his mouth, paused, then closed it and gave Conan a look much like a wet cat's.  "... I remember everything."  
  
This time, it was Conan's turn to pause.  "Okay, that does make a difference."  
  
"I had plans..." Kid murmured thickly, pressing a hand to his face.  "After you... why stop at Paris?  And why return them to unsuitable parents?  They would've been fine for... forever.  As long as I needed to evaluate their families.  But there are millions born every minute, I would've had no time... I knew I wouldn't have the time... There would've been no children left in the _world_..."  
  
Ladybug's yo-yo shot out and snapped up another akuma.  "Stop that.  Stop _thinking_ about it.  It's _not going to happen_."  
  
Chat's ring beeped.  He was down to one paw print.  One minute.  "I have to..."  
  
"Go."  Ladybug waved him off.  "We both do.  Conan," she added, bending down to look the boy in the face.  "We're counting on you here.  You and your not-cousin both.  Take him somewhere he won't be alone to worry about things that are never going to happen.  Okay?"  
  
Conan nodded sharply.  
  
_Please have my Lady's luck here_ , Chat thought as he fled.  
  
The transformation wore off, Plagg tumbling wearily into his cupped hands, before Adrien noticed all the traffic had been set back into orderly lines that could be driven away anytime.  The second Miraculous Ladybug had finished what the first one couldn't.  
  
_My Lady will be so happy._  
  
He bought a round of Camembert from a deli on the way back.  The place hadn't been open, but the owners had been downstairs in the store taking inventory and giving it a good scrub-down, and were kind enough to make the sale.  Plagg fed, he transformed near the bakery and slipped back into Marinette's room through the same round window he'd used to leave it in the first place.  
  
"WHERE HAVE. YOU. BEEN?" several people shouted raggedly downstairs, and Adrien nearly jumped out of his skin.  But no, the trapdoor downstairs was shut and no one was -- the trapdoor to the roof opened, and Marinette peeked worriedly in -- no one had been in the room.  
  
"Marinette, hey.  Were you on the phone with Alya all that time?"  
  
Marinette squeaked and fell onto her bed.  Then she popped up in an avalanche of small pillows, eyes wide, peering over the edge of the loft.  "Yes!  Adrien!  Hi!  Um!"  
  
"She probably talked your ear off about how she couldn't get to the fight, huh?"  
  
"Yes!  Yes exactly!"  More shouting drifted up from downstairs, a man's voice that Adrien didn't recognize; whoever it was, he wasn't speaking French.  "We should.  Um."  
  
"Go downstairs before your parents think we've disappeared too?"  Adrien went for the trapdoor and stepped down.  "Come on then, time to face the music."  He smiled at her, steeled himself, and went downstairs.  
  
The living quarters of Marinette's home were actually empty.  Adrien opened the door to the stairs down, and found everybody in the house clustered at the foot of the stairs, all centered on the shouting man.  
  
He was as tall as Tom, but slimmer, with his hair slicked back and a cheap gray suit, and flailed so expressively that even Adrien didn't need to know Japanese to understand what the man was saying.  Though it helped that Conan was staring up at him mostly unfazed, wincing only when the man hit a particularly loud note.  Conan wasn't the least bit scared of his father, Adrien realized, just visibly sorry.  
  
After the diatribe died down and Kogoro Mouri bent pointedly over Conan, fists on his hips, Conan finally let his head drop.  "Gomen nasai," he murmured.  
  
"Hmmph."  But then Kogoro scooped the boy up into his arms, clinging tightly, and turned his glower on Kid.  His next words, though Adrien still didn't know them, could only be a growl of "And _you_..."  
  
"Shin'ichi-niichan ja nai," Conan said.  
  
Kogoro's shoulders slumped, as did Ran's.  Then Kogoro said something something " _Kaitou Kid, na_?"  
  
Kid looked ready to flee on the spot.  
  
Conan bent back out of Kogoro's hug and looked at Sabine.  "He looks like my cousin, but he's really really not, but he was so upset about what happened to me last night that the akuma got him too.  Help?"  
  
Marinette, behind Adrien, already had a blanket ready.  As her family bustled everybody up the stairs, Sabine taking the blanket and folding it around Kid, Tom turned to Adrien.  "Are you going to stay for dinner?"  
  
Oh.  "... I can't," Adrien admitted reluctantly.  "The streets are okay now, so Nathalie..."  
  
One large hand settled warm and comforting over his shoulder and the back of his neck.  "I thought that might be the case.  We have a basket for you in the bakery."  
  
"I couldn't--"  
  
"We insist."  Tom's hand pressed him a little closer for a moment, just enough to imply a hug.  "We couldn't sell anything today, after all, but we had to bake up some of the dough anyway before the dough was ruined.  Someone needs to help eat that, right?"  
  
"R... right."  He'd be helping.  It was completely reasonable.  
  
... It was not the least bit reasonable, Adrien thought, as Tom brought out a family-sized picnic hamper.  How many people did Tom think he'd be sharing with?  He only really had Nathalie and the Gorilla... and Plagg, but Tom didn't know about his kwami.  
  
Still, Adrien let out a little 'oof' when Tom transferred it into his hands.  It was surprisingly heavy even for a basket that size.  What had Tom put in here?  Bread was supposed to be lightweight!  
  
Tom winked.  "Tell Mademoiselle Sancoeur that the pastries are all nutritious fruit filling with no extra sugar.  We keep the icing secret."  
  
Adrien held the warmth of that wink, and the Dupain-Cheng and Mouri families, close in his heart the entire way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Ok so I couldn't do this tag because spoilers, but "Chat is a gem". Ba dum tssh!
> 
> 2\. The next evening, Ladybug and Chat Noir find an envelope taped high on the Eiffel Tower addressed to them. It holds a sketch of Paris, captioned "the view from Sacre Coeur, as glimpsed by The Custodian through Papillon's eyes", signed Kaitou Kid.
> 
> 2a. Sacre Coeur is at least one fan's theory, I saw it on youtube, and checking google pictures of the Eiffel Tower taken from there... it looks about the right distance. So why not.
> 
> 3\. A week later, Kid's heist has a zillion cops, all the reporters, a host of celebrating Parisians, and like two thousand Dupain-Cheng cupcakes with tasty icing designs of Papillon behind bars. Chat's carrying a #1 Fan sign and Ladybug has a handmade banner thanking Kid for being their informant. Kid is like what no credit goes to the spandex brigade over there, I did hardly anything, staaaaahp it this is a heist not a party ooh chocolate cupcake.


End file.
